Alternate Ending to The Story of Annie and Finnick
by LRoseC
Summary: Is it possible that Finnick made it home? Or is he just another hallucination?


_Hey, sorry once again it takes me forever to finish these things. Okay, so this is the alternate ending I wrote for the relationship between finnick and annie. I just want my readers to know that I don't intend this as an ending to my 'Story of Annie and Finnick' because that ended the way i wanted it to. think of this more as an alternative to what happened in Susan Collin's version of the story, with some of my plot elements (like the name of the son) mixed in. So if you're just reading this and haven't read my other fan fiction about finnick and annie, jut know Oriole is the son and Echo is Annie's younger sister. __Hope you all had a merry Christmas, and God bless! Happy reading :)_

__**~Altnerate Ending to Annie and Finnick~**

_This story takes place after everyone's returned home from the Capitol, Annie's had her son, and it's been about two months since then._

I set my son down in his basket and tuck the blankets firmly around him. His wet green eyes blink slowly up at me and then began to fall, like sleepy butterfly wings. I touch my finger to his puffy lips and then run it in a circle on his cheek. It's like touching the most delicate, softest cloth. When his breathing slows and I know he's asleep, I notice just how bony and gaunt my finger looks against his new skin. I pull my hand away and clutch it slowly to my chest. When I turn around, the room seems to darken without Oriole in my sight. Blood snakes slither down the pale plaster walls and wrap around my sleeping mat. I close my eyes and steady myself against the table.

_It's not real. It's not. You're here. Oriole's here. _

Even as I tell myself this, I feel my arm shaking under my weight.

_You're home. There's no blood._

I open my eyes and the hallucination is gone, but it leaves an eerie twinge in my stomach. I stumble to the end of the room where a looking glass hangs against the wall. I freeze, thinking I am seeing another ghost from my past. But it's me. My eyes are circled with dark purple, my hair is still dark and wavy but tangled. It doesn't float with the same life it used to. I am thin enough to clearly see the bones pushing against the skin stretched thinly over my chest. My fingers brush over their ridges and I wince. It was like staring at the pages of my life reflected through a mirror, all the events that ended to this moment.

"What happened to you?" I ask the girl in the mirror. She blinks back at me sort of blankly. "How did we get here?"

I turn away from her and reach for the curtain drawn over the window. The tangerine sunlight spills into the room, warming my face. The ocean air sweeps in after it, filling the room with a salty caress. I step back and catch the image of myself in the mirror again, but this time the effect was quite different. The girl I see was too thin and tired, but she is so much more than a gray, hollowed out being. She isn't disintegrating, she is bathed in orange sunlight and there is still life pumping under her skin. Her eyes are rather clear even if they are wrapped in dark circles. And she still has freckles.

"Hey Annie," Echo calls in from the doorway. She swings into the room carrying a woven basket with sliced fruit and fish. "We missed you at dinner, but we saved you some anyway."

"Thanks," I reply. She sat down at the table, which I took to mean she's not leaving quite yet. I sit down across from her and start to nibble on a piece of mango.

"There was a train in today from the former Capitol," she says, "they brought in a lot of supplies. Some people too, Martin's back."

"Is he really?"

She nods. "What about the others?" I ask, "You know, Finnick's friends."

"Oh," she sighs, "I don't think so. I haven't heard anything about them. But hey, at least there's Martin, right?"

I press a smile and nod.

"I feel like going for a walk," I say finally, after eating more of my meal, "Would you mind staying behind with Oriole for a little while? I'll be back in half an hour, tops."

"Sure thing," Echo shrugs, pushing her chair back to steal a glance at him, "He's the quietest baby I've ever seen."

"It's a blessing," I agree, wrapping linen over my shoulders to ward off the breeze. Outside, it's quite a beautiful sunset. There are a few ships out on the horizon and people interacting on the streets. It wasn't like before, but it's better than it could have been. It felt almost lonely to watch them, so I lowered my eyes and held out my hand, imagining the feel of Finnick's fingers tangling into mine. If my mind could make up monsters, ghosts, and all kinds of horrors, then surely it could imagine the feel of someone's hand.

I walk like that down the length of the shore for quite some time until I finally stop. The bustle of the square could be heard not far away. I glance out at the waves and the sun, which was almost gone under the ocean. Suddenly I have the sensation of being watched and shiver, looking up the beach.

There is a man walking deliberately in my direction. He seems to have issues walking on the sand and a limp in his left leg. He has standard linen pants and a gray shirt that reminded me of the kind they made in the former Capitol.

_Must be one of the returnees._

_Maybe it's Martin?_

His head is shaved down and his face is turned down, like he's focusing on not tripping on the sand. The closer he gets, the more I can make out the thick scars on his feet and forearms.

"Martin, is that you?"

He picks up his head, but it's not Martin. I stumble back like someone shot me and blink, trying to see clearly in the hazy light. He's frozen where he stands, but there's no mistaking those glowing green eyes staring back at me.

_Oh no. No, I can't handle this. Not right now. _

I've had hallucinations of Finnick many times before, usually he's covered in blood or something horrible. Here he is, scarred and haunted on the beach.

He takes a step towards me and I step back. He takes two more, but I only take one.

"Annie," he breathes, as if saying it for the first time in his life. I freeze at the sound of his voice, even though I know it's a trap. Any minute, his hands will clamp around my throat and it'll be just another nightmare.

"Annie, it's me," he tries again. This time he stumbles at me fast enough to take me by surprise. He looks so desperate, so hopeful that it breaks my heart. He takes another step forward and I allow myself to reach out to him. Our hands connect briefly until he pulls me against his chest. I feel his heart racing under his bones.

_Thud thud thud._

Being held there, I feel tears start to pour from my eyes.

_Embrace it. Spend some time with him before it all goes to hell._

I wrap my arms tightly around him and allow myself a moment to indulge in how real he feels against me. I shut off my mind telling me it was impossibly and just reveled in it.

"I've been trying to get home for over a year," he rasped. His chest was heaving in a way that made me think he was trying not to cry. "It's been so hard trying to get through to the right people, no one believed it was me because they all thought I was dead. In the hospital, all my clipboard said was 'Nameless.'"

He laughs breathily but I hold him fast, not daring to look up and ruin my illusion. "Beetee's trident was incredible. At the last moment, right before the things killed me, Katniss threw an explosive. The trident just reacted, it was insane. I don't know if it had something to do with my pulse or the chemical reactions in the air—that's how some of the scientists described it—but it sort of shielded me from the blast. I was left under the ground through the whole battle apparently just bleeding out. They found me a few days later in a body sweep and brought me to the hospital. I guess I died three times on the table, the things nearly tore my head off."

I wince and start to pull away, but this time he holds me to him.

"My scars were bad enough that no one knew who I was. Imagine that, I used to not be able to go anywhere without people recognizing me, and then when it matters no body can put a name to my face. After a few weeks in the Capitol, the shipped me to a healing ward in District seven. It took nearly four months until I was finally released, but the whole process of getting home was impossible. I had no identification, nothing. I didn't know who to call, or even how. I lived in their shelters and helped rebuild for a few months, all the while waiting for some way to get home. Finally Johanna came back, when I found out she had returned I made sure I saw her. At first she couldn't believe it, but when she realized it was me, I knew it was my chance. I made her swear not to tell anyone who I was however. After all that time being treated normally, I grew to realize I couldn't handle the attention of being who I really was to others. I could barely find the strength to walk at times, not to mention talk to people. Even now I think that I wont tell our friends in the other districts I'm alive for quite some time. All I wanted was to come home. So finally Johanna helped me get on a train that would take me back to the former Capitol, then I was supposed to board one to take me to Four. But it didn't work out because the train was cancelled. The next one to Four wouldn't allow passengers. It wasn't until this last one that I was able to board the train and come here. I've been looking for you ever since."

When he's stopped talking, I pull away and study him. There is a long scar stretching from his forehead to his chin, and several smaller ones twisting his skin. But I don't know how no body recognized him, it's still the same face. Just with more reasonable beauty rather than the immaculateness it used to carry with it. I reach up and touch the scar gently.

"Look at you," he says, "Annie, I can't imagine how this has been for you. I'm so sorry I had to leave. I just—"

I kiss him quickly and feel my body start to spark alive. Even imaginary kisses are so sweet, so missed, I nearly fall backwards. "We have a son," I say suddenly, pulling away from him. "His name is Oriole. He has your eyes and hair."

Finnick blinks at me in shock. I keep explaining, "I found out shortly after you left, right before the final battle."

"Oh, Annie," he groans in a mixture of what I think is happiness and pity at the same time. "We have a son?"

I nod and feel more tears coming on. I start to shake my head and pull away because I've let myself go too far. If I don't stop now, the pain of it will kill me later.

"Annie, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice melting with concern. I shake my head again and try to pull away, but he hand my wrists and won't let go.

"I love you Annie. I've never stopped loving you. I'm here now, I promise. I'm never leaving again."

I look at him and suck in a deep breath. I touch his hands and face and chest. "You do seem real," I admit in a weepy voice, "More real than ever before."

I notice the string of shells I gave him all those years ago wound around his wrist. He sees me looking and holds them up. "Got them from the Capitol when I was there. It kept me going."

When I don't say anything, he touches my cheek. "You do still love me?"

"I've never stopped," I say. "Are you real?"

"Me?" he asks, pointing to his own chest. "It feels like it. But honestly, I don't know."

I sigh desperately. "But how can I know? How can I know that you're really here and not just some incredible figment of my imagination?"

Fin bites his lip and looks around. "Your family's back home, right? All of our friends? Our son?"

I nod quickly, clutching to his hand. He looks back at me and his eyes flash, his mouth stretching up into that impish grin I always knew so well.

"Then come on, let's go find out."


End file.
